


Pressure

by GrangeLady



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alpha Karen, Alpha Wilson, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Beta Vanessa, Explicit Consent, F/M, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Omega Foggy, Omega Matt Murdock, Past Rape/Non-con, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, courting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-11 19:51:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7905454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrangeLady/pseuds/GrangeLady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Vanessa and Wilson aren't the bad guys, and they help Matt through his heat. </p><p>Vanessa has done her research, Matt has been courted thoroughly enough to deal with this, and Wilson has faith in his mates.</p><p>(Please note that this centres entirely on Matt/Vanessa/Wilson, and other ships are way in the background.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Matt's POV

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Too Good for Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5142839) by [gildatheplant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gildatheplant/pseuds/gildatheplant). 



> I wrote this months ago while on the train, and just found it today. All underage and noncon is historical and only referred to in one sentence but please be safe. 
> 
> Loosely inspired by Too Good For Me, which you should definitely read.

Their bed was relatively new and absolutely huge, a custom job that took up almost half the room. This would be less impressive in a less impressive home but the bedroom was the size of his entire apartment. His old apartment? In the bare month they'd been courting him, he had gotten conflicting but encouraging reads on what they would be like as his mates: Wilson had an almost chivalrous old-fashioned streak and Vanessa had a history of involvement with omega rights groups. 

The most encouraging thing of all was that he felt safe here, as far as he could feel anything through the hot mist rising in his head, on their bed in their room. (Not den, not yet, because that had implications of commitment and childbearing and this was the first time he'd even been in their bedroom, they just weren't ready for that yet.) 

But here he was, on a large, soft and brand new bed, fresh from a large, powerful and multi-program shower, and the only thing keeping him from curling into a fetal ball was Wilson's hand on his stomach. Wilson was lying down too, on Matt's left and on his side while Matt lay on his back and tried not to squirm in the silk pyjamas he'd been dressed in. He was still present enough to hear Vanessa in the kitchen, throwing together some supplies for an emergency none of them had been properly warned about. 

If he focused, he could make out what she was gathering: plastic bottles that were probably fruit juice, a bag of things that rattled like peanuts in the shell, another bag that was probably soft candy, something that smelled like energy bars... Easy things to keep in reach of the bed for when none of them could bear to leave it. 

He didn't want to focus. It took too much energy now, extending his perception beyond the aches in all his muscles and the big hand resting solidly on the worst twist of cramp. He was tracking Vanessa of course, but that was a reflex he couldn't control at all. His monkey brain was insisting that he needed her now, needed both his mates to help him through this, but his monkey brain was an idiot because he could barely move with the cramps, not to mention the... sloshing. 

The fluid being synthesised to replace what Matt would lose in the first day of heat was making itself known as a slight swelling around his abdomen and a terrible gurgle every time he moved even a little. Wilson had reassured him that he couldn't hear it, and then that it was normal anyway and Matt had nothing to be embarrassed about. It was a nice sentiment. He probably even meant it.

This was new, though, this cosy building of tension with the knowledge he was going to be taken care of by a compatible couple. He had always been grateful to his friends for doing their best to help, but the fact remained that he wasn't compatible with other omegas and the only person he'd really trusted well enough before now was a perfect specimen. 

Thinking of Foggy was a bad move right now. A sickening rush of longing for the first person he'd chosen to share a heat with, along with a more disturbing surge of acid jealousy, filled him, and logically he knew that it was a biological response making him aware of a potential rival but logic couldn't hold back the whine that crept up his throat. 

Wilson inched closer, hand beginning to move up and down over Matt's stomach. "I know it hurts, but it won't last much longer. You're doing so well." The weight of his hand lifted a little but kept up its stroking, lightening the pressure in Matt's stomach and making him sigh. He hadn't realised how bad it had become. 

This was always the hardest part, the crest of tension before the crash into hormone fugue. Or maybe it only felt that way because it was happening now and so, so immediate. Maybe the worst part was the frenzy of energy meant for building nests but usually (in his case) channeled into breaking bones. Maybe the worst part was the exhaustion just afterwards, or the pre-heat scent that made people drool politely inside their mouths before they could even detect it, or the lulls in the heat itself when he was too empty to sleep and too tired to do anything about it and the sounds of his city wailed for help when he was helpless. 

Maybe it was the first rush of slick in public, knowing that everyone can smell it and everyone knows, feeling in the back of his _throat_ the distinctive thump-thump-thump that's made under the softest skin of any nearby unfilled knot that's starting to wake up. Maybe it was when he could finally stagger out of bed and to the bathroom, when his urine smelled like the recycled fluid he hadn't been able to move to expel and which had recirculated until he was ready and it smelled tar-heavy with his body's poisons.

Most of those things didn't even happen this time. 

When it hit (and explained the ferocity with which he had taken down the two perpetrators of an attempted mugging the night before), he had been in his office. Foggy was out for lunch with Marci, which translated to 'I don't know if I'm coming into heat because I'm pretty irregular but it's possible and this might trigger it so don't worry if I don't come in this afternoon', and Matt wasn't going to call him away from that. Karen was in the main office, of course, diligently tapping away at... something important. The pool of slick already starting to form in his briefs - the drip-resistant fabric keeping his pants safe for now - reminded him he didn't have much time. 

"Karen, could you please come in here?" 

It hadn't taken long to iron out the details. No, he didn't want to call Foggy. No, he appreciated the offer but he wasn't going to jeopardise her fledgling triad with that post-grad student and the soldier Karen won't let them meet. Yes, she could listen in on the phone conversation just in case. Yes, he wanted to go out and meet them outside the office. No, it didn't mean there were trust problems. No, she couldn't walk him to their car. 

Their car pulled up less than five minutes later but Matt was already standing near the door to avoid ruining the chair. 

"They're here." Karen's hand gentle on his arm as he reached for the door handle, her voice the quiet of one trying to soothe a spooked horse. "Call me if you need anything." 

Matt couldn't help his smile as he went down the stairs as fast as his already shaky legs could go. Karen would come if he called, put every ounce of herself at stake to rip Wilson's throat out with her teeth and break Vanessa's spine over her skinny knee if Matt even hinted he wasn't okay. He knew it as surely as he knew she was standing at the window to confirm he was getting to the car safely. 

The scent of another alpha so fresh on him had certainly made his partners more eager to cover him than usual. Vanessa hadn't delayed long enough to ask for the permission he had never withheld before she pulled him into the car, one hand on his right shoulder and the other on the left side of his torso. "Gotta try and remember to thank Karen for that", he remembers thinking as he was crowded in by Wilson's comforting bulk. 

Matt was pulled from the memory by the man in question lifting the covers. They wouldn't get into bed until they were all there. Matt didn't much care about his temperature, because heat is so called for a reason and he was going to feel as hot as his body damn well pleased for the next however long this lasted, but he couldn't bear the thought of being enclosed and cosied away from either of them right now. 

It was one of the things they had talked about. When he still had control of his tongue. 

But now Wilson was lifting the covers and saying "Time to get in now, Matthew." Vanessa was in the room, setting out their provisions between the bed and the door to the wardrobe. 

He didn't want to move. Felt like he would crack like an egg if he moved, get his clear sticky insides all over the bed and ruin the sheets before they even started, but that big hand was moving up to scoop under his side, gently maneuvering him into a half-sitting position, curled up against Wilson's body. The duvet was tugged from underneath him, a little slippery already. He whined again, embarrassed. 

"It's alright, darling. We're here." Vanessa's hands, blessedly cool to his skin, cupping his jaw just under each ear and smoothing down over his stubble, drew his awareness in until the sounds of the street lost all their urgency. He pressed forward into her touch and she rewarded him with a kiss. 

Not up to their usual standards, the kiss was sloppy and desperate and distracted him enough from the twinges and gurgles his body made while Wilson maneuvered him to lie on the untouched sheets. This, he realised with shocking clarity, is why triads work. 

He had no idea who it was that pulled the covers over them, but in seconds he was between the alpha and beta who had (courted, pursued, won) done all this for him, Vanessa tilting his face back towards hers while Wilson finished buttoning up the pyjama top he had put on... at some point. 

Give it up, Murdock. You're done working things out for a while. 

The pains in his body were drifting away with everything else. Soon, all Matt would be aware of would be the three of them and whatever they were doing. Not quite there yet. He still felt egg-full and couldn't quiet the part of him that insisted this was too much. That he was ruining their bed and they would be mad when they noticed and he should just leave now and he always got too wet anyway, it couldn't be normal and he was going to be sent away when Sister Agatha found him, have to leave the Kitchen, and he couldn't bear it. 

The next thing he knew was the soft warmth of Vanessa's breasts on the side of his face, then Wilson's voice rumbling against the back of his head, then Vanessa's hand slowly tousling his hair, as though they could pour comfort directly into his brain. 

(They had talked about this too, when they were in the car and Matt wouldn't know if they were cuddling him because of Karen's scent or out of the pity that he dreaded from them. He'd gone quietly when they had bundled him into Wilson's lap. It would have been easy to clear up their mistake - his fidgeting wasn't because he needed touch, he had been dealing with solo heats since he was eleven and he could cope with a lack of attention, he just didn't want to ruin their upholstery and didn't really know what to do about it without insulting them - but he'd taken what he was given and tucked his head under Wilson's chin, his face turned towards Vanessa, before speaking. 

"I want this. I know we haven't discussed it properly but you have to know I want you both." Wilson's hands firm on his lower back and between his shoulder blades, Vanessa's hand covering Matt's on Wilson's shoulder. The uptick of their heartbeats and the sound of the hair rising on Vanessa's arms as she resolutely controlled a shiver. "But we need to talk about it now."

He gave them the brief version, of course, because he could feel himself warming up and hear his slick running over Wilson's leg hair where it had soaked through the fabric of his suit. Wilson didn't seem to mind, maybe hadn't noticed yet, so Matt just pressed closer. 

"I've never done this before. I've been with betas and alphas during heat but I've never... chosen early like this. It's always been a last resort when I," didn't lock the door right that first time in college, left shopping for provisions much too late, had the gall to come into heat for the second time in my life and distract my mentor when he had me pinned, "couldn't stand to do it alone." The vapour rush of adrenaline he could smell hitting both of them spoke volumes. 

"So if I get distracted or need a break, it's not you." Matt finished, and the breath-long silence made him want to melt away. Some time during his speech he had wriggled as far into Wilson's hold as he could but he barely noticed the teasing throb of the knot right under him that must be coated in his wetness now, just pushed his head into Wilson's shoulder and closed his eyes. Braced for impact. 

Vanessa's voice was barely as loud as the car's engine when she broke its hum, laid an arm around Matt as though he could be gathered closer. "What can we do to keep you with us?")

"Thanks," he slurred back into the moment, and her hand tightened for a moment. Scratched his scalp. He wanted to weep as the dizzying pleasure of that brought him back into his body with what had to be an audible clatter. 

Some sound must have escaped because the next he knew was Wilson's hand on his back, travelling down to where he was drenched and reeking. Matt tried not to squirm. He didn't want to hurt Vanessa, who wasn't very big after all. However much his hindbrain was telling him that he was supposed to be smaller, the smallest one here, it was being snarled back into line by the Devil. 

_Ours. Keep them safe. **Ours.**_

Then Wilson reached the waistband of his pajama bottoms and he _thrashed_ despite Vanessa's scent and Wilson's soft words. The hand moved no further and after seconds or minutes Matt felt himself settling to it. The way his face had somehow become buried between Vanessa's breasts helped. Stretched-thin comfort gave way to anticipation when he found himself focusing on the twitching half-blown knot in Wilson's pants. 

His hips barely lifted. His knees were spread so wide he had almost no leverage, but the twitch towards that big patch of pressure teasing too close to where he needed it, the twitch was enough. 

"Thank you, Matthew. God, thank you," and Matt's begging whine choked off into a gasp. The maddening softness of the pajama pants eased off, exposing his soaked and throbbing hole to the room's warm air and then the firm press of something... Matt's thoughts dissolved into bliss, and later he would be embarrassed by the last clear memory - his own voice, almost shrieking a garbled "Yes!" right into Vanessa's collarbone. 


	2. Wilson's POV

When Matt had writhed between them, distress almost edging out his desire, Wilson had almost cried. The scents of his mates mingled together and it was a drug, it made him want to wrap them both up and keep them here in the bed he'd got for them, keep them here and safe and his forever. He steadied himself. He glanced up at Vanessa.

Vanessa, whose eyes were almost as glazed as Matthew's, whose hands were rubbing his back and sides, whose chest was shuddering with her own breaths and the force of Matthew's desperate half-sobbing gasps. 

Wilson had to deliberately still his hand over the small of Matthew's back. He gave a moment to imagine what he would do if he were an evil man. He imagined continuing despite Matthew's protests, how the silk would tear away only over the his ass and how tight and quick Wilson could have the head of his cock inside, how easy it would be to hold Matthew's neck down and hips up and screw him deeply, slowly until he was ready to knot... 

And then he imagined Vanessa cracking him on the head with the bedside lamp. He imagined Matthew's screams. No. The omega was rolling his hips so slowly it must be an unconscious reflex. The press of his silk-covered dick on Vanessa's thigh must feel so good. Wilson found himself salivating, unsure who he was more jealous of. 

Vanessa was watching him through the haze, her protective instincts flaring into life.

"Just a bit longer, love," she murmured, her voice like velvet.

He nodded, swallowed, and didn't let his hand move. He had to focus on that now, and the tiny damp patch where Matthew was almost, almost ready for him shifting in slow circles. The darker blue patch was hypnotic as it moved with the gradual roll of Matthew's hips, and Wilson let the task distract him from thoughts of the sounds Vanessa would be making if they were face-to-face, if that long grind of Matt's dick was inside her instead of on her. 

Later. He could wait. He wasn't an animal. 

Nonetheless, when Matthew finally pushed back properly into Wilson's hand at the top of his ass, he almost growled in triumph. 

Instead, he focused on his suddenly clumsy hands and took care not to let his fingernails scrape against Matthew's oversensitive skin. As gently as he could, Wilson eased the blue silk down, over the swell of his ass and over the crease where his thighs began.

He could feel the tension snap as he lost patience. Wilson took encouragement from a glance up at Vanessa, who was smiling with a suggestion of tears in her eyes, and traced one thick finger down the crevice of Matthew's ass until he could feel the little well of slick that was brimming up. He dragged his finger through it, spread the hot-sweet wetness so it leaked over Matthew's balls and onto the sheets. 

In response to Matthew's yelp of encouragement and the frantic tilt of his hips Wilson centred his index finger on Matthew's hole and sunk it in. Matthew was loose and tight at the same time, open and easy to enter but clenching almost painfully around the thick finger once Wilson's other knuckles were nudging his balls. 

Wilson was barely clinging to control, his eyes now fixed on Vanessa's face as she directed him. 

"He's taking that so well, Wilson," Matthew's clenching and his fitful humping increased and the omega made a pleased sound, "but I think you need to find his prostate." Vanessa's voice was lower than usual, husky with desire and the rush of beta power. She tipped her chin down to speak into Matthew's hair, teasing him. "We do need to make sure he has one, after all."

A small cough of laughter bubbled from one of them at the weak joke. (Vanessa and Wilson had promised on their way to their omega's office that this could be fun, that they could keep some kind of light in it. They didn't have the details of Matthew's past heats but this one would be as far from an ordeal as they could make it.) Later, Wilson will marvel at her self-control. At this moment he just marvelled at her, at how she had brought Matthew here, courted him properly and shared him with Wilson. 

The angle was wrong, but if he could have he would have kissed her. In that spirit, he bent to his task, slipped two fingertips into Matthew's hole and relished the whine the increased spread brought from him. Wilson pushed them forward with a steady pressure and Vanessa's arms tightened to keep Matt still when Wilson's thick fingers skated over his prostate.

Unnecessary, it seemed, since at the same moment Matthew turned into a puddle of moaning pleasure. The motions of his hips stopped, his arms settled on either side of Vanessa's head, and even as his legs slackened and let his weight settle onto her, his hole fluttered and seemed to suckle at Wilson's fingers. 

Wilson flexed them and watched Matthew groan into Vanessa's neck, the breathless sound urging him on until three fingers were writhing inside Matthew's ass. The sporadic thrusts on his prostate had formed a pool of precum and slick that spilled between Vanessa's thighs, drenched the silk of her pants, but Matthew seemed to have lost the ability to control his body. Helpless noises were coming from somewhere every time the tip of his dick hit the crease of Vanessa's Adonis belt, his body jerked forward by the pounding of Wilson's hand. 

Such was the haze that started to cover Wilson's conscious thoughts - that frantic alpha heat haze of _beta's orders, omega's need, give give give give_ that overwhelmed even the low-level everyday desire to protect and possess - that he would have kept fingering Matthew until his heat broke. Thank goodness for Vanessa. 

Her nails squeezed Wilson's shoulder. "Fuck him," her voice was rough and her right hand was gentle on the nape of Matthew's neck. The omega huffed an agreeable grunt, the slick tunnel of his ass tight and throbbing in time with his frantic heartbeat, his legs still jelly.

Pulling his fingers out felt like removing the sword from the stone. In a moment Wilson had pulled his dick through the opening in his pants and was sliding it home. 

The soft flesh of his half-formed knot snugged up behind Matthew's vestigial balls, which looked much smaller next to his alpha's functional ones, even covered as they were. Wilson had to stop and pant and let fireworks light up the space behind his eyes while he struggled to adjust to the pressure, his face level with Vanessa's. 

She was holding Matthew's head to the crook of her shoulder and murmuring praise into his hair, just above his ear, the perfect image of the nurturer, just letting Matthew shake and whine in response to the weight and spread inside him. Vanessa met Wilson's eyes when his hand came down next to her head to support him. As he shifted from kneeling behind to leaning above, Matthew's steady whimpers changed to a long, quiet groan. 

"Ready?" Her voice was unbearably steady while Wilson was ready to break down into dust. It was also obviously not for him. Matthew's hair was too damp with sweat to stir at her breath (there was no doubt that her lips would be laced with it) and the still moment stretched like skin over a broken bone while they waited for Matthew's response. 

Afterwards, Wilson would be unable to remember the breathy "hmm" that prompted Vanessa's nod. In the moment, he was simply unable to decipher it. His control was thinning, squeezed out of him by every involuntary twitch and grasp of Matthew's body, and all thought was drowned by his relief when he was finally able to _move_. 

Vanessa's nod and Matthew's sob of gratitude were his last clear memories for some time.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated.


End file.
